


You Kissed Her Back

by jmflowers



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmflowers/pseuds/jmflowers
Summary: Two times Charity kissed Vanessa and two times Vanessa kissed Charity.





	You Kissed Her Back

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't watch Emmerdale as a show, because I live in Canada. But I have spent the entirety of the last week watching every scene involving or pertaining to Charity and Vanessa that has aired in the last fourteen months, because I am truly a sucker for any and all cute lesbian couples. I don't think I'll ever be able to accurately portray the British character voice or grasp all the various intricacies of these characters, but I had a lot of fun giving it a try.

**You Kissed Her Back**

_December 7, 2018_

_~~~_

                She tastes of whiskey the first time she kisses you, and you're just drunk enough to not resist when she pulls your lips to her own. It's a different sort of whiskey taste than the one you're used  to, where half the flavour is the way it burns your insides on the way down. No, when Charity kisses you with whiskey breath, half the flavour is an entirely different warmth that floods across your insides from somewhere else completely.

                But you're not so drunk that you can't acknowledge that her kiss is an awful, terrible, monumentally stupid idea, and so you do pull away after a beat. And you do take a second to remind yourself that she's abrasive, and conniving, and cheeky in a not-so-cute sort of way. You try - very hard - to keep that Charity aligned with the one sitting in front of you, who's sparked a rumbling fire in the pit of you that she'd surely be happy to cover with petrol.

                Except, you think that maybe if she does you might explode. And that reality is slightly harder to align with the Vanessa you've always known yourself to be.

~~~

                The second time she kisses you, you're far less drunk and yet, you still can't find it in yourself to pull away. Because even though you've just said aloud that it was a mistake and that it shouldn't happen again, there's this quiet little piece of you that really, really wants it to. Just the touch of her lips against your own reignites the fire that's been smouldering within you since last night and the eruption of flames race across your skin in warm tingly things that you can probably explain if you stop and think hard enough... but you don't want to.

                The second time she kisses you, you let your brain shut off and your body fall into her. Your mouth moves of its own accord, joining to hers in that artful dance that begins when two people _want_ to be kissing each other. Her lips wrap around your own and your muscles cease function and all breath leaves your lungs and when she asks you if you want to come upstairs and find out, all you can do is nod.

                Because Charity Dingle is a conundrum on her own, and this warmth in the pit of you is equally mysterious, but you haven't the wits to figure them both out at once. Not when she's prancing up the stairs like a cat with its supper, shooting sly glances over her shoulder as her hands tangle in your jumper and tug you along behind her.

                The second time she kisses you doesn't end with just one kiss, it is followed by another and another and a few more after that. She pins your back to her closed bedroom door and kisses more than just your lips, winding her way down your body as she frees you from your clothes. And that fire within you that seemed big before explodes into fireworks or a volcano or the freakin' sun because she really has doused it in petrol, now.

                And this time, you're not so sure if it's the worst thing in the world to be kissed by Charity Dingle. Heck, it's getting further and further from the worst every time she does it.

~~~

                The first time you kiss Charity, she doesn't taste of whiskey. The first time you kiss her, you've already well learned the curves of her skin and the contours of her mouth. You know the shaky breath that shudders over her lips when you pull apart, recognize the heady sigh that rumbles up from her chest when you surge back in for more. You are friends with the sultry gaze that pins you to the bed as you come beneath her fingertips and are more than well acquainted with her own fluttering eyelashes and arching back when you return the favour.

                Yes, the first time you kiss Charity you've already spent three months letting her call the shots. Letting her ring for booty calls and schedule late night rendezvous and tug you along for naughty little quickies in back rooms or behind any door that will shut. For three months, you've toed that line between sleeping with Charity because it's her will and actually making a move because it's yours.

                So when she comes at you in the dark lane, wind tossing those curls about her face and her uncertain feelings finally making their presence known in a more 'adult human' sort of way, you find you can't quite help it. Because she is abrasive, but the more you chuck at her walls the more that abrasiveness seems to crumble into an almost soft demeanour. And she's certainly conniving - just the last few days of digs is enough of a testament to that - but she's also kind of good. Kind, maybe. Loyal, more so. And she _is_ cheeky in that not-so-cute sort of way, but also in a sort of cute way, too. She makes you laugh and she's fun and you're having fun with her.

                Maybe that's all you are, maybe that's all you'll ever be. But it's not like you were ever looking for more than that with Charity; it's not like you were looking for anything at all.

~~~

                The second time you kiss Charity, you are the one who tastes of alcohol. And you are not so drunk that you want to pull away, because that quiet voice that once wished for a little more is much louder, now. You have treaded carefully around her easy spooking and tossed all caution to the wind, because she's come to you. She's come _after_ you, despite all her attempts at telling you there's nothing more. There is more, between the two of you. You'd like her to admit it, if she's even capable.

                Because even amidst all the best advice, you've grown to really like waking up with her beside you. You've grown accustomed to the koala bear snuggling of her limbs around your own, the brew passed wordlessly from her hands to yours, the lazy whispers after the lights have been flicked off at night. You've tamed the wild beast of Charity Dingle and domesticated her into your own home and, somehow, you're still alive to tell the tale.

                Truthfully, you'd like to tell more of it.

                So you wrap your mouth around her own and bury your fingers in the familiar softness of her hair. You rejoice in the now near constant feeling of warmth in the pit of you, reaching upwards and outwards in those tingly-things that no longer need an explanation. You don't have to shut your mind off to fall into her, because your heart has taken charge.

                And at the end of the night, when the fire within you has erupted once more, it won't have been such a tremendously stupid idea to have let Charity Dingle kiss you; letting her kiss you won't feel like a mistake at all. After all, you kissed her back.


End file.
